


All they would do was hold each other

by busybeegracie



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 01:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13353408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busybeegracie/pseuds/busybeegracie
Summary: He had requested - although she knew when he asked her that it was an order, not an offer - her company tonight. She knew why. They had not shared a bed since before she was with child, and now they were back in court, in the King’s favour. The King who had a son. Unlike George and Isabel.





	All they would do was hold each other

She hovered outside the door of her husband’s bed chamber, just for a few seconds or so. A wave of dizziness had overcome her, and she felt that if she did not focus on breathing for a couple of minutes, she would forget to do so completely. When her fingers grasped the handle of the door, she realised that her hands were whiter than her bed sheets, and shaking like a leaf. The door creaked open, and the heat from the fire roaring in the Duke’s chamber was already seeping through her furs and flimsy nightgown. He had requested - although she knew when he asked her that it was an order, not an offer - her company tonight. She knew why. They had not shared a bed since before she was with child, and now they were back in court, in the King’s favour. The King who had a son. Unlike George and Isabel. “Husband?”

”Isabel,” came the monotonous reply, prompting her to make herself visible to her husband. She gently shut the door behind her. Greeted by George, who was also in his night clothes, she once again, became incredibly aware of her shaking form, and could not dismiss the thought that she may pass out before she made it to the plush bed. She thought she had been nervous on their wedding night, but this was a whole new level of fear. She wasn’t even sure why.

The Duke and Duchess exchanged few more words, before both of them were sat side by side on the bed. George knew they would not conceive any heirs simply by sitting in silence next to one another, so he turned to face his wife, who he had already noticed was not her usual, confident, emotionless self. But then, when had she been? He had not seen the Isabel he had known growing up since before April, since before the night at sea that neither of them could bear to even think about, let alone discuss.

”You are shaking, Isabel,” he observed, although he had noticed her apprehensive deameanor the minute he had set eyes upon her.

”I’m sorry,” she muttered, and George felt something break within him and something soften within him, both at once.

”You don’t have to be sorry,” he replied. He and his wife had always got on, but since the loss of their baby, only a couple of months ago, they had found themselves struggling to find the right words to say to each other. This evening was no exception. “You don’t have to be scared, either, Isabel,” he offered, prompting her to meet his gaze which she had avoided for the last few minutes.

She found herself unable to reply, and George decreed that the best way to put her out of her misery would be to get their marital duties over with for the night. He was aware that she had little desire to try for another child, too scarred from the loss of their first to even think about it, and he couldn’t say that he felt much different. That almost felt like the worst thing about this. That he could not say anything to comfort her, to ease her pain, to make her feel, even in the slightest, better.

There was no pain, when he entered her, and it may have seemed obvious to her, had this been before the ordeal they had suffered with the birth and death of their daughter, that he was trying his best to be gentle - as he had done whenever he had bedded her - but all she could do was lie beneath him, like a stone. He knew this would not be a night to dwell on his own pleasure; he wasn’t even sure whether it had occurred to him beforehand that he may not experience any.

When the deed was done, he swiftly shifted to the side of the bed next to her, not even contemplating whether they would spend the night in each other’s company or not. On their wedding night, he had not asked her to leave, but instead let her sleep beside him, and had hoped that it would bring her some comfort to be in his company after undeliberately inflicing the pain of losing one’s maidenhead on her.

Isabel wanted little more than to simply be on her own. It was all she had wanted since she lost her little girl. She had thought that the part of her that had been so eager to please her husband was dead and gone, but something was keeping her in the bed, next to him. She inhaled shakily, and it was only then that she noticed the dampness on her cheeks, the tears that refused to stop streaming from her eyes. There was a movement, which was followed by the awareness that her husband was shifting closer towards her. She felt his arm curl around her neck, and his calloused yet somewhat comforting hand rested gently on her shoulder.

She felt the warmth of his breath in her thick curls, and something in her changed. There seemed to be, a flicker of feeling. Emotion. Something she had not experienced in what felt like a long, long time. “It’s alright, my love,” he told her. The endearment had not been planned, yet had slipped so easily from his lips that he did not care to take it back, or apologise. He felt her nestle into his chest ever so slightly, and decided that tonight, all they would do was hold each other.

**Author's Note:**

> The two Gisabel fics I’ve written so far aren’t massively fluffy, but historically, I would guess that they possibly weren’t in love until the birth of their daughter, Margaret, as the first few years of their marriage were rather busy and most probably filled with grief.


End file.
